


The Book of Revelations

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [35]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: Being catholic, Bisexual, Catholic, Coming Out, F/M, Falling In Love, Seminary School, admitting love, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 10:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17507078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: “Interview me all you want,” his tone was low and tired. “I’ll answer.”





	The Book of Revelations

**Title:** The Book of Revelations  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Timeframe:** post-Rumble in the Alley  
**A/N:** Takes place just post Indigo  
**Disclaimer:** Murphy Brown belongs to Bend in the Road Productions and Warner Bros. This story is mine, my own, and totally what happened. 100% Of course I don’t make any money for this.

 **Summary:** _“Interview me all you want,” his tone was low and tired. “I’ll answer.”_

She’d died. Quite simply, she’d died and gone to what someone somewhere considered heaven. She was stretched out on the bed, clad only in a pair of Peter’s boxers. He leaned over her, his hands warm on her skin, while he worked out kinks in her muscles that she hadn’t even known she had.

“Dear God, you missed your calling, lover. You should have been a masseuse.”

“Masseur?”

“Shut up.” Anything else she was going to say as Peter found a pressure point in her back and pressed down hard enough that whatever tension she’d been holding on to cracked loud enough that he brought his hands up.

“Did I break you?”

“There’s blood flowing to places it hasn’t in twenty years.”

“Then,” he chuckled, “I should continue. God, Murphy, when was your last massage?”

“The question you should be asking is how is it that we’ve been going out as long as we have and you don’t do this more often.” He responded by poking just below her ribs and Murphy squealed and kicked at the blanket covering her feet. “Jesus.”

“Isn’t it your default to fall asleep while I rub your feet?”

“Yeah, well, those talents should have been used on my back.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Really, your back is a mess.”

“Slipped disc,” she responded. “A few years ago.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” He paused and she watched him reach for the oil. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Murphy shrugged and rested her head back on the pillow, staring up at the flowers over the bed. “Your back is actually a lot worse than mine and for once I didn’t feel like getting into a pissing contest over whether or not my problem is the more important one. Anyway, I actually do get massages every so often. I just haven’t lately.”

His hands moved over her again, lingering on her hips before moving to her thighs. He pressed his thumbs deep into the muscles and she let out a moan that was usually only reserved for when his face was buried between her legs. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Well, first, that noise. I mean, come on.” They both laughed. He pressed his thumb into a spot on her butt cheek and she yelped as blood flow returned there as well. “But you aren’t known for …”

“Putting my lovers needs ahead of my own?”

“Well …”

She looked at him again. “You’re different, Petey. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

He leaned over and covered her with his body, pressing a kiss to her neck. “Yes.”

“Good.” She pressed her hips back up into him, feeling his body’s reaction to her. “Good,” she murmured, rolling over, adjusting so her legs were around him. Their eyes met and she sighed, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I love you,” she murmured.

The phrase was so new, so fragile, but she wanted to say it as often as she could. She needed to strengthen this tether between them. Linda and Frank had tried to make them nervous, tried to make it so they didn’t trust themselves, but it had only made her realize just how much she loved this man and how much she wanted to know everything about him. But in slow bursts. The last thing she needed was to know everything right now. After all, she wanted more moments just like this.

“I love you too,” he responded, his green eyes still locked with hers. She groaned as he pressed against her, feeling his erection through his shorts, and she reached down between them to free him from the confines. Slowly, she worked him, her fingers light on his cock, smiling when his eyes finally closed and he pushed himself up off of her. “Murphy …”

“Yeah?” She kept working him, watching his face, knowing exactly when to slow her movements and help him get her boxers off. The break in motion let him regain himself, but after the massage, she was wet and as ready as he was.

Still, he let the touch linger, stroking his fingers through her folds, working her clit slowly, with just enough pressure to make her tighten with anticipation but not letting her fall over the edge. No, she knew this look, he had full intention of delaying everything tonight.

Thank god.

True to form, Peter took his time, his mouth moving over her skin, tracing patterns across her body with his tongue. She writhed below him, his fingertips mimicking the touches his hands had made on her back.

“Oh Jesus …” she moaned.

“Peter Hunt,” he corrected her, his mouth casting hot breath across her stomach. “Nice to meet you.”

Murphy giggled, but the comment spurred a question in her mind, reminding her of something she’d wanted to clarify the other night after the bowling alley. “Hey --”

“Murphy?” Peter raised up above her, a smirk on his face. A thick finger slid into her body and she gasped, holding her breath as she adjusted to the sensation and his thumb pressed against her clit. He met her eyes. “Maybe you can ask me deep and probing questions after I’m done probing you?”

God. Yes. Please. Don’t. Stop.

Was she saying that out loud? It didn’t matter because he leaned in to kiss her and she tangled her fingers in his hair as he worked her to the brink of explosion.

“Fuck …”

Okay, that she said out loud.

“Glad to oblige,” Peter chuckled. He slipped his finger from her and moved to slide between her legs and into her body. She cursed as he moved inside her, her legs high up around his waist, their hips tilting and dancing while he thrust and she matched him.

He came first, groaning her name while she dug her nails into his shoulder blades, riding him out until he caught his breath and her legs fell to the side. She was so close she was trembling and he pulled back, his weight on one arm, and slipped a hand between them. Pressing down just hard enough on her clit and she spasmed around the cock that was still deep inside her body. Her nails gripped so tightly she knew she was taking skin with her, but she didn’t care.

“That’s it …” he murmured in her ear, refusing to let up the pressure, building her to a second climax. “Closer …” she gasped and pulled him deeper inside of her, pressing his hand between them. But he didn’t need much room to move and with one flick of his finger, she was crying his name all over again while he whispered how beautiful she was and how much he loved watching her lose control.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any more and pushed him away, begging for mercy.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“You can’t ever go out of town again.”

He laughed and pressed a warm kiss to her neck. “In a perfect world …”

A long, languid breath escaped her and Murphy sat up and slipped into the bathroom. If only sex was really like the romance novels described it. She much preferred snuggling down with Peter after, but the resulting UTI wasn’t exactly something she liked dealing with. So here she was, washing her hands and putting her hair up into a messy ponytail before presenting her naked self back to him. He was stretched out on the bed, the sheet covering him, and she sighed. “Tell me again what I did to deserve you?”

He quirked a grin at her. “You’re too smart to ask questions like that.”

“Oh shut up.” Murphy crawled back into bed and got comfortable while he tended to his own needs in the bathroom. She’d started to doze into the comfortable haze of post-coital bliss when he spooned behind her and ran his hand down her stomach. “You aren’t getting anywhere near me for a while,” she murmured, capturing his hand before it could wander between her legs. “I’m still twitching.”

The laugh was more a rumble than audible, and the vibration made her happy. Really, she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him, and she knew that no one understood how she of all people could be in a happy, long term relationship, but she was and if they didn’t get it, that was their loss. Frank.

Still, despite her lassitude, the earlier question still haunted her brain. “Peter?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Seminary school?”

“You aren’t going to let that one go, are you?” His tone was gentle, and tired.

“I just have questions is all.”

“And tomorrow morning, over coffee, I’ll answer them. Right now, I’m mostly asleep.”

She pressed back into him and didn’t bother arguing. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Interview me all you want,” his tone was low and tired. “I’ll answer.”

She dozed before she could respond. By the time her brain circled back to the conversation, Peter had rolled over, stealing covers in the process, and was snoring lightly. Murphy grabbed the sheets, curled up against his back, and fell asleep herself.

***

It was mornings like this that Murphy was so very glad for a live-in nanny who rose early enough to keep her son occupied in the mornings. It allowed for her and Peter to enjoy a languid shower - that ended with her on the counter, her legs thrown over his shoulders - and take their time making their way downstairs. On days when Murphy was home, Reena headed out as soon as Murphy had herself together, but the morning assistance was invaluable.

Today, Avery greeted them with bacon in one hand and a cup of orange juice in the other. Peter stole a slice of bacon from Avery’s plate and Murphy just went for the coffee. She was absolutely exhausted lately.

“I was thinking,” Reena said, “that I could take Avery out to the planetarium today. One of my friends has her grandson and he’s about Avery’s age and they could have fun.”

“That,” Murphy said, grabbing a piece of bacon from the pan on the stove, “sounds great. What do you think, Avery?”

“Stars!” He giggled. “Yes!”

“Okay then. Go forth and wear each other out.”

Reena cheered and picked Avery up from his booster seat. “We should go get washed up, huh little man?”

Murphy waved goodbye and glanced sideways at Peter, who was smirking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If what you’re thinking means spending the rest of the day in bed save for when we pay the delivery guy, then yes,” Peter grinned.

“Is this all I am to you?” Murphy rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” he teased right back.

They behaved themselves until Reena scooted Avery out the door and in the silence of the townhouse, Murphy found herself simmering with questions she’d never intended to ask. They’d fallen in love in surprising ways, learning about each other in the here and now, and were still feeling out a past that for both of them was as open as it was guarded. It was easy enough to look and see who had been doing what when, it was another thing to know the story.

This was why reporters were natural loners. Someday, Frank would understand that and stop searching every bar and bookshop in DC for a soulmate.

Natural loners. Yet, here she was, stretched out on the couch, listening to Peter talk about a documentary idea he had that would trace back what was happening on the reservations in Canada and Australia and how their government used the same tactics as the United States to segregate and impact native nations, tracing it back to the colonialism of England during the Empire. Truly, it was fascinating, and left her with questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. After all, she was a fan of the local football team - despite their name.

“So I have a question though,” Murphy said as he came to the end of his rambling. He was looking at her, his head tilted, and she grinned. “Does this mean even more time out of the country because, the phone sex is great but … you can’t rub my back from 5000 miles away.”

Peter laughed and walked over, tapping her feet so she’d move them. Grumbling, Murphy sat up and tucked her knees under her, facing her boyfriend. “You know, you could come with me for part of this when I get around to doing it. Take a month, bring Avery, we can make it a family thing.”

They stopped. The air settled hard and heavy in the room.

“Yeah,” Murphy pushed past the sudden anxiety. “We can.” Family. He’d said family. But that was what they were and who they were and she could do this. How much longer, really, before Avery started calling him “Daddy”? Were they ready for that?

“So,” Murphy stretched, listening to her back pop and crack. “Where’d you get the idea for this? It sounds like it’s been kicking around for a long time.”

“Well, it was a conversation I had a lot back in seminary school, honestly. A lot of the students wanted to go onto the reservations and bring the Good Word to the noble savage, which is still a thing and it’s disgusting. But there was a guy in one of my classes, Rob, who liked to call people on their bullshit. He wasn’t all that popular.”

Murphy laughed. “I can imagine. And it’s a hard topic, when you think about it.”

“It is.”

Murphy furrowed her brow. There was something more. Something he wasn’t telling her. But, he had brought up seminary school, which to her was an open door. She stepped through. “So?” She leaned forward. “Seminary School?”

***

The two words hung in the air. Peter looked at his girlfriend, studying the sharp cut of her cheekbones, the blue eyes that always caught him off guard, the blonde hair peppered with brown and just the fairest hints of gray. She was beautiful. The kind of woman he’d never allowed himself to dream he’d deserve, and it was in knowing her, loving her, that he’d come to realize it wasn’t about deserving anything. They just worked together.

“Yeah,” he said, staring past her at the statue on the mantle, the floral painting on the wall, the tile of the fireplace. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her about it. He’d loved the study, the focus. He’d love the challenge and the questions he’d asked himself every day then were the same ones that drove him to war zones to report on the places God seemed to have forgotten. Peter knew Murphy wouldn’t mock him for it either. Avery went to the JCC, after all. She wasn’t opposed to religion and it wasn’t like he was a devout follower of any faith any longer, his Catholic ritualism aside. His prayers to Mary and Jude were his and his alone. Still, there was so much more to the story. To his story.

What did he let himself reveal?

“It actually started in catechism class,” Peter said. “There was this priest who taught us and unlike so many of them, he wasn’t a predator. He just genuinely wanted to talk about God, you know. So, we’d get together on the playground at the church and he’d talk to us and help us ask questions - he never answered them. Just helped us ask them. By the time I got to applying for schools, I was hooked. I went off to college and majored in theology with a minor in journalism and intended to go to the Seminary. Which, I did.”

He didn’t tell her about the crush, about the night he’d closed his eyes and instead of Katie Lee Parker staring at him in his mind’s eye, it was Father Rick. How his sixteen year old self had whacked off to the guilt of his emotions for his mentor, how he’d crept in shame to the shower and clawed at his skin, praying to rid himself of the devil’s touch. How he’d stayed awake the next three nights, endless rosaries working through his fingers, and he still closed his eyes and saw Rick.

God had abandoned him. He was one of “them” one of the ones who got whispered about and beaten up. He was a word taunted on the playground at Jonah Green. A word he never dared to bring himself to say. His relief when he’d kissed Katie Lee Parker on the playground the next day had gone straight to his adolescent cock and he’d been so thrilled at his genuine excitement over the moment that when she took off her shirt during a makeout session two days later, he forgot - at least temporarily - about Father Rick.

Peter cleared his throat and looked at Murphy, who was waiting, expectantly for his harrowing tale of academic humiliation. Linda had always swallowed his story about getting kicked out for cheating. It was, however, only the official reason. The letter in his file detailed only the infraction of the planted test questions, the falsified plagiarism. The school had chosen to not give the specifics of how he and Rob had been caught together in his dorm room, hesitant, exploring kisses leading to heated touching and stroking.

_“I’m not …” he’d argued as Rob put his hand down his pants._

_“Me either …” Rob had replied._

Peter didn’t want to give Murphy the official version. He didn’t want her to just be playing catch up. But what would she think of him? Modern politics had given him a word for his orientation, a word he cared little for because the time he spent in relationships was primarily with women. There were few men in his line of work he was truly attracted to.

So what did a word like bisexual mean in a moment like this? Did she actually need to know? She was asking about seminary school, not a list of people he’d slept with. But seminary school was as entwined with this part of him as breathing, and he didn’t want her to have an official record that was nothing more than a face-saving lie.

“So? What happened?”

Murphy’s voice jolted him back to the present, to her couch, to the way she was looking at him, the lines around her eyes soft. She wasn’t interviewing him here. She just wanted to know about this part of his history. But he just didn’t know how to tell her without risking everything. Not even his family knew. He’d let them swallow the story the school sold. It actually made his transition to journalism easier.

“They lie in their stories all the time …” his father had snapped.

“Do you know the Hail Mary?” Peter found himself asking.

“Um … I think so?”

“Hail Mary, full of Grace …” Peter felt the comfort of the words flow through him. “Devotion to Mary is what sets Catholics apart from so many other Christian faiths. They bow to Jesus, but every Mass honors Mary. And that’s part of what drew me to the Seminary. The idea that God wasn’t just this triple threat of a father’s wrath and a son’s desperation to do the right thing. No, I loved the concept of Mary. She was perfect. Which, in retrospect isn’t a great pedestal for women but give me a break, I was sixteen.”

That made Murphy laugh.

“So there was Father Rick who was this awesome guy, teaching us all out on the basketball court and showing that faith didn’t have to be this static thing, you know. And I’m studying Mary and St. Jude and it’s all making sense that Seminary is where I should be.”

“So what happened?”

“Sounds an awful lot like a professional inquiry there.”

“I’m a journalist. Sue me. What happened.”

Okay, so she could tell he was stalling.

“I got caught in bed with one of the other students.”

“Why did that --”

He watched her stop herself. Watched the realization work through her mind. She was already confirming to herself it was a Catholic seminary. No lady ministers here. He watched her eyes widen, soften, widen again, and he tried to figure it out, tried to see what she was thinking. At some point, he had nothing.

And then. As she almost always did. She surprised him.

“Do you remember the photojournalist I told you about over Christmas?”

Peter nodded.

“Okay, so we never went to bed together, not like that. But I understand a little bit. I think.”

His heart shattered and tears flowed right up to his eyes, pushing at him. “I …”

“So here’s my question … do you want to tell me about Seminary school or him?”

Peter looked at Murphy, trying to work it out. “It’s as intertwined I think as Vietnam and Jessie are for you?”

He wasn’t sure what he expected as a response to that, but it wasn’t her eyes filling with tears. She took a breath, stood up, and walked over to him. “Fair.”

Peter took her hands, searching her face. “You need to know something.”

“What? That this guy in Seminary wasn’t the only one?”

“Yeah.”

Murphy was quiet. She squeezed his hands and met his eyes again. “Are you faithful to me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you clean?”

He winced. “You know I am.”

“You’re right.” He saw the apology in her eyes and accepted it. This had to be a lot for her to absorb. “So, what? You got kicked out of Seminary because you were in love with a fellow student and they caught you with him? And you’ve had … relationships … with other guys over the years?”

“A few.” Peter shrugged. “It isn’t something I advertise.”

“I don’t blame you.” She let out a breath and pulled away. Peter clenched his hands into fists, missing her touch, worried suddenly that she wouldn’t come back. “If word gets out that Peter Hunt sleeps with men, your reputation is ruined.”

“Yeah, it is.” He could only stare at her back, silently begging for her to turn around. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her shoulders were tight. Anxious. Peter waited.

“Am I enough for you?”

The question didn’t surprise him. But he was surprised it was where she jumped to so quickly. He thought it would come after he wooed her back to bed, after he reassured her she was the only person in his life.

“Murphy …”

“I’m not … I don’t have …” she shrugged. “Come on, there have to be things you get from a man that you don’t get from me.”

“Am I enough for you?” He asked. That got her to turn around.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the only one coming out here.” Peter’s eyes fell on the photo of her and Jessie in front of the house in Vietnam.

“I only …” Murphy let out a chuckle and rolled her eyes. “In my defense, it was the 60s and honestly, the few times I had sex with women … it really wasn’t that great. I don’t know if it would have been good with Jessie though. We never got to that point.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “That’s fair.”

“So yes, you’re more than enough for me, Peter. But, I probably shouldn’t have asked the question. It’s just a lot to process.”

“So, what you’re saying is that we should have done our relationship the old fashioned way. Gone through the checklist. Name, job, income level, music preferences.”

“Number of sexual partners and their names?” She let out a shaky breath.

“Something like that.” Peter risked walking over to her and putting his hands on her waist. Murphy rested hers on his upper arms. “But we didn’t ever expect to get to this stage.”

“We’re here,” Murphy said. “And this scares the hell out of me.”

“It scares me too.”

“It would have been easier if you got thrown out of school for cheating.”

“You don’t want the story Linda swallowed.”

“Oh,” Murphy quirked an eyebrow, “Linda swallows?”

He laughed and risked leaning in to kiss her. She allowed him the gentle touch of lips, the tender dance of their tongues as her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her up against him. “Really,” he murmured as they pulled apart, “are you okay?”

“It’s a lot to process and I’m not sure what it all means to me, okay? But … I know I love you. I know Avery loves you. And everything else … well … we’ll figure it out. Just like we keep figuring … us out. Just.” She took a deep breath. “Be honest with me, about this, okay?”

“If there is anything in this relationship that keeps working, it’s us being honest.”

“True.” She leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder. “So, what do you miss with men?”

“You really want to go there?”

“Yes.”

Peter tugged her against him and leaned in to kiss her. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Because when I’m with you, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I’m also okay that Linda swallowed and you don’t. To me, Murphy, it’s the same thing. What matters to me is what we have, not what I could be missing with someone else.”

She looked at him, and he watched the wheels turn in her head. “Hail Mary?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s complete without God. But, it takes someone to realize that to worship her?”

He laughed and wrapped her in his arms again, pressing her so hard against him that they both stopped breathing for a moment. “Exactly.”

Murphy pressed her face into his shoulder and then went to sit. Peter joined her. “I love you, Peter. I mean … when I asked about Seminary, I didn’t think I’d get this conversation. But, I’m glad I did.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t know what to do with it, but I’m glad we had it.” She reached out and touched his cheek. Peter closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Me too.”

“Hey …”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Yeah?”

“Take me upstairs and make love to me?”

He could see the insecurity, the need to know he worshiped only her. At least right now. Glad to oblige, Peter reached out, took her hand, and led her to the bedroom.

***

Catching her breath was the hard part. She hated to fall into the stereotype, that Peter Hunt was the best lover she’d ever had. But damn, Peter Hunt was the best lover she’d ever had. Thirty some-odd men, and a couple of women, had passed through her sheets over the decades and every single one of them flew out of her mind when Peter’s hands and mouth moved over her body.

Murphy uncurled her toes one by one, slowly unclenching her body from the tremors that wracked her. Peter was next to her, also catching his breath, and never in the year-and-a-half that they’d been together had she quite had her head explode like this.

“If this is what you coming out to me does to our sex life,” Murphy teased, “I’ll take it.”

Peter huffed and reached for her. She pushed him off and trembled her way to the bathroom. She was pure jello.

Murphy took a moment to collect herself. She pulled her hair into a loose bun, tugged a t-shirt over herself, washed her hands. She was a sticky mess and needed a shower, but she kept cleaning up to a minimum. A shower could wait until later. All she wanted was to go wrap herself in Peter’s arms and listen to his heart beat.

She wanted to be the person who was able to say that nothing changed with a revelation like this. She loved Peter, loved them together. But this did change things.

It surprised her to know how much more she wanted to know, how much more she wanted to give him of her own heart. It was a secret she didn’t want to tell anyone, let alone herself, but she knew that for once in her forty-seven years of life, she was happy with another adult. Truly happy.

Jessie and Jake would be happy for her. She hoped, anyway.

Well. Jessie would.

“You okay, baby?” Peter called from the other room. “I think I just heard Avery and Reena.”

“Yeah!” She glanced at herself in the mirror and then glanced back to the shower. “I think I’d better rinse off.”

“Can I join you?”

She laughed and poked her head out of the bathroom. “What do you think?”

Peter grinned and jumped off the bed to chase her into the shower. Murphy laughed and let him run the soap over her body, returned the favor, and teased his fingers away from her still sensitive body.

She wasn’t sure what his revelation meant. She wasn’t sure what to do with this information except hold it close to her heart. They loved each other, and that meant something. It meant that they had all the time in the world to tell each other the connections that created the stories that made up their lives. Right now, it meant laughing as he toweled off her body, teasing him as they both pulled on jeans and t-shirts for the evening, and went to see what Avery’s day had been like.


End file.
